Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens
by sarcastic commentator
Summary: the short and tragic story of john laurens and alexander hamilton. Not as sad as it sounds, I promise! historical au.


Alexander Hamilton never expected to be where he was. Just a few short years ago, he was toiling away in the west indie islands, a seemingly never-ending pit of endless turmoil and needless suffering. Then, he was a proud aide de camp to the greatest general in the colonies' short and bright history. Now, he was the Treasury Secretary of the United States of America. Ever since he was simply a seventeen-year-old publisher to Henry Knox, a very influential man in the Islands, he had dreamt of rising up, of making a difference and leaving a mark wherever he could. He hadn't counted on John Laurens, a very strange, amazing person who was laughing one moment, then deadly serious the next.

The revolution was still a struggling flame in a vast darkness when Laurens arrived. He arrived a worn and battered soldier, straight from the southern militias, seeking sanctuary from dozens of torch-bearing Tories, riding on horseback. Hamilton remembered being amazed by the fact that the bedraggled soldier had survived for so long. He also remembered observing the man's red hair and blue eyes, so much like his own, his slouched posture, and the easy way he held his bayonet.

Laurens had only been at Valley Forge for a month when the general promoted him to the leader of a small squadron. Hamilton had still not achieved that, although he had been the general's most trusted Aide. Laurens befriended many people, Hamilton included. The two soldiers used to talk for hours on end, exchanging stories, hopes, and dreams. However close Hamilton felt to the intriguing new commander, he still couldn't quite figure out the enigma that was John Laurens.

Later in the year, they were assigned to the same squadron. At the time, Laurens had been with the continental army for half a year, having settled down well. The two were a team, and Hamilton fondly remembered the many times the two of them had fought together, shining a warm light over the cold, dark days of the war. Hamilton had provided a thought out solution to a problem, while Laurens had been more than happy to go through with a plan he had thought up at the moment. Both approaches were good, under different circumstances.

During their time as soldiers, many people had assumed they were brothers, from similar features to their strikingly complimentary personalities. Both had red hair and long noses, both were exemplary fighters, had senior positions under the general, and were excellent persuasive speakers. They also had striking differences, Laurens was the stereotypical rebel, not waiting for society to change for him, trying to make the world a better place. Hamilton tried to change society for everyone who couldn't do it themselves, waiting for any opportunity to present itself.

Their relationship only grew. When Hamilton took a bullet for Laurens, they both seemed to share the pain, and Laurens stayed by Hamilton's bedside all night, not sleeping once. Hamilton's arm soon healed, and it seemed that the bonds had only strengthened through the ordeal. Laurens vowed to one day return the favor, and to this day, Hamilton could swear that the man's friendship through those hard and weary days of war were more than enough.

The day Hamilton was deemed well enough to go back into the line of fire, Laurens did not leave his side once. The two seemed to exhibit the only good side something as monstrous as war could bring about: the unbreakable bonds of a friendship that was somehow something more.

That night was the first time that Hamilton had had a body warming his previously cold bed at night in months. He relished in the heat his best friend radiated and had wished for that moment never to end. Then Laurens opened his eyes, and they were forced to resume their duties, duties which frowned heavily upon soldiers having affections anything beyond camaraderie.

The next time they were in new york, Veteran Philip Schuyler hosted a winters ball in honor of the soldiers taking refuge in his mansion. Most of them saw the ball as a mere formality, a way to let loose for a couple of hours before going back to their strict regime. For Hamilton, it was a way to gain important contacts for later in life. Once again, he hadn't taken into account someone else. This time, it was the former general's daughters, Angelica, Eliza, and Peggy.

Peggy made fast friends with Hamilton, with her sarcastic ways and sharp tongue. she was much like Hamilton himself, and he later corresponded with her regularly. Peggy had died a few years ago, but he often found himself mulling over her memory.

Angelica had astonished him, she was bold, with a quick wit and charisma that flowed from her pores. She had Long black hair that curled down her back, she was wearing a pink dress made from the most expensive chiffon. She was his first dance, and perhaps even his first (female) crush. If she had not been with John Church, a short man with no discernible personality and English roots, he might have been in a very different situation at present. He had never thought Church as good enough for her, but he let it go.

Eliza. He often thought about how different his life would have been if he had not met Elizabeth (Eliza) Schuyler. It was only a turn of events, and startling foresight on her sister's Angelica's part that they were ever even introduced. Angelica had introduced him to the middle Schuyler, with straight brown hair and big doe eyes. He had known that she had obvious feelings for him, though he never expected to return those affections with as much vehemence. The next year, he and Eliza were still exchanging letters frequently.

The next year, when an upstart soldier named Charles Lee cheated Hamilton out of the second in command to the general, Laurens was furious. He immediately challenged Lee to a duel, the slight on Hamilton ringing on his conscience. Hamilton, aghast at the turn of events happening in his name, tried in vain to negotiate with Lee's second, who happened to be a colleague. When his efforts proved fruitless, he had to let his best friend duel an enemy, the best he could do was hope that things turned out in favor.

The two gentlemen carried out their paces. They counted to ten. Then, Laurens shot Charles Lee in the hipbone. The general immediately demanded a rematch, and it was all Hamilton could do to ensure that his wishes did not come true.

The general seemed to think it was an action provoked by Hamilton, and suspended him from the continental army. Laurens was distraught at the consequences his actions had caused his best friend. He knew how much having a respectable reputation mattered to the General's young aide. So, John Laurens retired to the Southern Border once more, under the pretence of going back to protect his home state, and seeing his family.

Hamilton's newlywed wife, Eliza, welcomed him home with open arms, greatly appreciating him taking a break from his tireless actions. She regaled him with news a son on the way. Meanwhile, Laurens was fighting on the southern border, where skirmishes were more than common. He did more than fight on the battlefield to, he fought in court, on the orator's stage. He tried to gain support for his many petitions for slave rights and was a fierce abolitionist. He fought against the overwhelming slave oppression in the South. Writing weekly to Hamilton, he was not willing to lose the bonds of their friendship. He petitioned for slave armies, spoke about how slaves were going over to the British lines by the dozens each day. Hamilton helped his friend, asking guidance from the many aristocratic families he had befriended during his short few college years. He petitioned for slave rights on the East Coast. The two were working together, though separated by many miles of harsh, dry land.

When Hamilton was called back into the line of duty by a frantic General Washington, his wife Eliza was distraught. He, on the other hand, was ecstatic, writing immediately to Laurens, expecting a prompt reply. Laurens had scored the position of a senior general in the southern militia, and was in frequent contact with many people attending the continental congress. He pursued the delicate topic of freeing slaves, and the abolishment slavery in general relentlessly, arousing the suspicions of many. He wrote to Hamilton, expressing congratulations at his re-initiation, and hoped he would hear from his dear friend more now they were both on the front lines.

During the breaking of the fortifications in Yorktown, Hamilton was leading one of the two main battalions leading the attack. Nevertheless, the only thing in his mind was that Laurens was safe, and how soon he would hear of the victory at Yorktown, and how the British were speculated to soon admit defeat. He was desperate to hear from his friend, who had been silent for some time now.

After the fortifications were broken through, the British soldiers did surrender, led by a frantic, drunk general.

A week later, the southern front still had no news on the surrender, and John Laurens led a small frontal assault on a party of soldiers. The party was successful, freeing many small level hostages, and dispatching many British soldiers. But, even despite the giddy atmosphere quickly spreading throughout the colonies, the revolutionaries in Virginia were deeply grieved by the loos of a brave fighter, and an excellent mind. John Laurens was fatally wounded after the British surrender.

He had died thinking the British were losing, though he would never be sure again. He never got Hamilton's letter, which was dripping with joy. Hamilton only got wind of his best friend's death after the funeral had come to pass. The two dear friends, as close as they were, lived in different spectrums for the last days of Laurens' life.

When Hamilton got the news, the man was distraught, and as much as Eliza, and his now 6-month old son tried, he as inconsolable, He lost himself in his work, churning out two to three federalist essays in a week. He also buried a small, essential part of himself, and never again allowed himself to love a friend the way he had loved John Laurens.


End file.
